


Post-Adrenal Haze

by angels_hunters_idjits



Series: Supernatural: Destiel Fics [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Leviathan killing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:16:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4075765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angels_hunters_idjits/pseuds/angels_hunters_idjits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of a battle with a leviathan, Dean and Cas finally make sense of it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post-Adrenal Haze

**Author's Note:**

> Something I wrote a while back but never actually uploaded to a fanfiction site. Since i'm determined to start writing properly, thought i'd upload it and see what people think. I've been away from Supernatural for a while, but this involves leviathans, so it's season 6-7, if memory serves me correctly. There's a second part to this that i'll also upload. Check it out if you're interested :)

Cas spun through the air, slamming into the thick branch of a nearby tree.

 

As he hit the ground, the branch broke with a loud, dry _snap_ and fell onto Cas’ back, knocking the breath out of him with a hoarse _oof._ His mouth pressed to ground. He tasted soil and blood.

 

Forcing himself to look up, Cas saw the Leviathan slowly advancing, a flash of scarlet cleaving through his eyes, a hungry leer on his face.

 

_“Cas!”_ Dean screamed from where he too lay on the floor. The sight of Cas on the ground, helpless against the approaching beast sent hot energy surging through his limbs. His breath suddenly back, Dean scrabbled to his feet, head and heart filled with nothing but the desire to help Cas, to protect him.

 

Save him. _Save him like he saved me._

Cas saw him coming, swift and silent. Cas opened his mouth, tried to shout _No Dean!_ but could manage nothing more than a dry whisper, a breathless sigh that made the Leviathan smile more.

 

_Smile then_ , Cas thought in his pain-pounding head. _Smile even though you’re dead_.

 

Such malicious thoughts were not the stuff of angels. _But then you stopped being an angel a long time ago_.

 

Behind the Leviathan, Dean bent down, picking up the angel sword that Cas had lost hold of.

 

He slowly, quietly got to his feet, the sword held ready. As he moved, Dean caught Cas’ eye and winked.

 

Even in his breathless state, that wink sent the familiar heat to Cas’ heart and to his cheeks. The heat he’d never really understood. The heat only Dean could bring out in him. A heat born of heartfelt confessions and breathless glances and gazes. Comforting words and healing touches. Compassion and protection.

 

Cas struggled to find a word to attach to this… this… heat – the only word he could find to describe the warm rush Dean gave him – this feeling of understanding and safety Dean gave him and he hoped he gave Dean.

 

Dean raised the sword high.

 

Cas found the word.

 

_Love?_

 

All this rushed through Cas’ mind in a moment.

 

And in that moment, Dean struck.

 

Reaching the Leviathan’s back, he lunged, bringing the sword down and driving it through the beast’s back.

 

The Leviathan roared and spun, the blade still in his back, swinging his arm up as he went. Dean stumbled back, bringing his arms up to defend himself. The Leviathan’s arms became a sharp flurry, cutting into Dean’s arms with the sound of wet ripping and tearing.

 

Cas looked up. The sword was still in the Leviathan’s back. He tried to move. He couldn’t. Everything hurt.

 

Dean screamed.

 

Suddenly, Cas could move.

 

He braced his hands on the ground. They struggled to find purchase on the damp soil, but he managed it. He got to his knees, half-shrugging and half-throwing the branch off his back.

 

Slowly but surely he rose. Quiet, dark, slightly hunched over with pain, like a predator hungry for blood. For the blood of the one threatening Dean.

 

His Dean.

 

_My Dean._

 

Over the barrier of his arms, Dean saw Cas coming. He smiled.

 

“You’re gonna burn you son of a bitch,” he spat out between clenched teeth.

 

Cas surged forward – and pulled the sword from the Leviathan’s back, accompanied by a spurt of glittering scarlet blood.

 

The Leviathan spun to face the new threat, too late to do anything.

 

Cas’ arm became a blur, the sword scythed through the air…

 

The Leviathan’s head fell from it’s shoulders.

 

Blood spurted in all directions, splattered Cas’ coat and Dean’s arms and hands. The bleeding didn’t seem able to stop, even as the beast’s knees folded beneath itself and the headless corpse pitched forward and hit the ground with a welt _squelch_.

 

Neither Dean nor Cas moved as they concentrated on getting their breath back, concentrated on each other’s faces.

 

The heat was back. It became a red flush on Cas’ cheeks. Something in Dean’s face changed as he took in the blush on Cas’ face.

 

Something glinted in his dark eyes, made them seem like two burning coals nestled beneath his brows.

 

_Hunger? Exhaustion?_

 

He gave Cas a small, tired smile.

 

The adrenaline lingered in Cas, making him shake.

 

His fingers, slick with blood, loosened, and the sword tumbled from his grip, dropping with a soft _thump_ to the ground.

 

He took a step forward.

 

“Aw hell.”

 

The moment passed. The shaking stopped.  The heat stayed. Made Cas feel like his chest was covered in a warm blanket.

 

Dean was examining his torn clothes. Cas watched as he ran his fingers over the intricate meshwork of fabric and bloodstains – some old and dried, some fresh and wet – that clung to his arms.

 

His bloodied fingers swept over a wide gash his shirt. Cas followed his fingers, found his breath hitching in his throat as Dean pulled the fragments of shirt aside to examine his weathered, well-muscled torso.

 

The sight of it stirred… _something_ in Cas. Something deep down. A coiling in his stomach. A hunger. An urge… to touch, to feel.

 

To kiss.

 

_Kiss?_

 

Cas watched as Dean wiped his hands on his jeans, then chuckled as softly as Dean looked at his hands, now coated with a fresh layer of wet crimson.

 

“Oh, sonofa-”

 

His exclamation was lost in a sudden hitch in his breathing. Castiel’s chuckle vanished.

 

Dean reached up to his right shoulder, his hand finding the wound just as Cas’ eyes did. It was a deep gash, carved into his shoulder like fault lines in weathered, strong marble. Dried blood mixed with the fresh blood slowly trickling from the wound, forming a thick, sticky crimson paste that crunched wetly under Dean’s fingers.

 

“Dean?” Cas said, raising a hand.

 

“No problem Cas, I’ll be-”

 

Dean looked up. His breath caught in his throat.

 

Cas had moved to his side, moved impossibly fast, moved so close that he breath came in small, warm gusts, brushing over Dean’s face.

 

Dean didn’t mind.

 

He looked down, watching as Cas’ long thin fingers probed the wound. His touch tingled, sent the tingles coursing through his body, into Dean’s heart, where they blossomed into warmth. An all-too familiar warmth. A warmth that Cas would’ve recognised.

 

Cas’ fingers had stopped moving. He pressed his hand over the wound, resting against. Dean’s life pulsed under Cas’ hand, robbing the angel of breath. He felt his lids draw over his eyes.

 

Cas’ cool touch moved through Dean’s body, drawing out Dean’s breath too, gasp by gasp. His eyelids came down over the warm glitter of his eyes.

 

The warmth in Dean’s heart moved outwards, strands of heat that met Castiel’s cool touch, blossoming in a conflagration of cold heat and warm chill.

 

_That’s what we are._

That’s what they had always been. Warmth and cold. Fire and ice. Dean’s burning passion and good heart tempered by Cas’ cold logic and – occasional – level-headedness. That was they worked so well together. Why, unlike Sam and Gabriel, they’d succeeded like they were supposed to.

 

That’s why they belonged together.

 

Why they were meant to _be_ together.

 

The cold heart merged into a temperate wave that flowed through both of them. It burned away the last vestiges of adrenaline, leaving behind nothing but surety. A surety born of a certainty mixed with just the right amount of uncertainty.

 

Cas moved his hand away from the wound. He no longer feared the consequence; he wanted to live in the moment, not fear what just happened or was going to happen, just _live_. _Do_.

 

“You’re hurt.”

 

_What a stupid thing to say. Of course he’s hurt._

 

Slowly, he bent downwards.

 

“Cas, wh-what’re you doing?” Dean said, voice quiet and shaky, not sure of what his angel was about to do.

 

“I don’t know…”

 

The words slipped out of Cas’ mouth like a dry, hoarse murmur, false and honest at the same time. He knew _why_ he was doing this, but the _what_ … the what escaped him. This business with… lips… had never been one Cas had readily identified with.

 

Still, when his lips touched Dean’s wound, the shiver he felt beneath Dean’s skin spurred him on. He moved his lips up and down once, twice, three times. The shiver continued, accompanied by a raspy gasp that seemed to be drudged up from the depth of Dean’s being. A gasp that bid Cas _go on_.

 

Cas felt the wet hardness of Dean’s blood against the smooth curve of his lips. He didn’t care. He pressed harder with his lips.

 

He felt a hand on his chin. A hand that sent warmth to his lips. A hand that tilted his chin upwards. Up till he found himself gazing into Dean’s dark irises, that fiery glitter still in them. He could feel Dean’s blood slick against his lips, cherry-red against the pale pink of his lips.

 

In Dean’s eyes, he saw what was in his own. Surety and uncertainty. The moment filling him with a drive to do something he didn’t really understand.

 

And then, it hit Cas.

 

_He doesn’t know what he’s doing either…_

 

He felt a sudden impulse to say something, do something.

 

“Dean, I-”

 

Dean’s finger on his lips stopped him. Cas found himself looking into his eyes, the lids now pulled back up, that dark glitter bright and alive. A confidence was there, a surety; a surety that _this_ was right, and _they_ right, and everything was just... just…

 

_Just right_.

 

Cas felt it too.

 

Slowly, inexorably, as though Dean was a magnet who exuded an irresistible attraction – _Which he does_ , Cas couldn’t stop himself from thinking – Cas raised his head. He left Dean’s hand behind, left it to trail down his neck and his chest, where it rested above the calm, steady beat of his heart.

 

Cas’ face reached Dean’s collar, his nose gliding and bumping up the smooth curve of his neck, over his chin, where it bumped into his lips. The bump made Cas bounce back slightly, and he looked up, right into Dean’s fiery eyes.

 

Dean’s mouth formed a curious pout, but there was no doubt in him anymore. None in Cas either.

 

Dean leant forward, both of his hands coming up to wrap around Dean’s neck.

 

Cas leant forward, his left hand coming up to rest on Dean’s right shoulder.

 

An eternity, a second, both one and the same, passed.

 

Their lips brushed.

 

One, twice, three times.

 

Then Dean kissed Cas and Cas kissed Dean.

 

It started slow and gentle, their lips exploring each other’s, dancing and feeling, touching for the first time.

 

The dance became fiercer.

 

It became a battle of teeth and tongues, both begging to be let inside the other’s mouth, seized with the passion of the first kiss, of the desire fulfilled at last.

 

Dean’s grip became tighter, as he began to win the battle, the tidal wave of his kiss slamming against the rocks of Cas’ lips. It send Cas back a step. He didn’t mind. He held, weathering the storm, the storm he had longed for, the storm he didn’t want to cease.

 

But, like all passion, it slowed and calmed. Their lips returned to their gentle caressing dance. Dean’s arms moved to wrap around Cas’ slim frame, both resting safe in the knowledge of their hope, their belief that _this_ , this little slice of heaven, could and would last forever.

 

Dean felt a bright warm spread out over his shoulder.

 

Soon, too soon for both, they parted, rested their foreheads together, Cas safe in the circle of Dean’s arms.

 

Dean felt Cas tracing lazy circles on his shoulder. He looked down. The wound was gone. That had been the bright warmth. Cas’ power healing his body even as his kiss healed – or began to heal – his soul.

 

“Better?” Cas asked. Shaky again, unsure again.

 

Dean smiled. He couldn’t help himself. He pressed a kiss to Cas’ forehead.

 

“Much better.”

**Author's Note:**

> As I said, there's a second part to this, so have a look at that if you're interested. All comments welcome! :)


End file.
